


When We're Together

by stillusesapencil



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Christmas, F/M, Family Feels, Fluff, Found Family, Friendship, Gen, Holidays, Light Angst, Pining, like not the kind that makes you cry just the sort that makes your heart hurt a bit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-04
Updated: 2019-12-04
Packaged: 2021-03-03 17:46:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21675601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stillusesapencil/pseuds/stillusesapencil
Summary: Jyn snorts before returning to her sulking. “I just want it to be Christmas. I want there to be decorations and lights andfucking Christmas cheer!”Leia gives a pointed look to the miniature Christmas tree Jyn had crammed into the corner of their already crowded dorm.“Well, yes,” Jyn flounders. “There is that.”Leia hums. “I suppose now wouldn’t be the best time to tell you that Luke is planning a holiday party for the Saturday before finals?”“What? Of course you should tell me! Why didn’t you tell me sooner? Where is it? Who’s coming? Will there be wine?”In which the crew throws a party, Jyn drinks a lot, and inappropriate white elephant gifts are exchanged. Rating for language and forementioned inappropriate gifts.
Relationships: Cassian Andor/Jyn Erso, Chirrut Îmwe/Baze Malbus, Leia Organa/Han Solo, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 89





	When We're Together

**Author's Note:**

> It's been three years, and I'm still writing for this fandom.
> 
> In what is unfortunately a habit for me, I have multiple papers due and exams impending, so I went and wrote a fanfiction. Whatever. It's more than twice the length the papers are supposed to be. Seventeen days until I graduate, and never have homework again! 
> 
> Title from Sleeping At Last's song by the same name.

Jyn wants to go home. That’s her primary thought these days, primary emotion, even. Can wanting to go home be an emotion? Maybe. She’s decided. It can be an emotion, therefore, it is her emotion. 

Unfortunately, going home is still at least 19 days, 5 tests, 3 papers, and 2 presentations away. And a partridge in a pear tree.

That’s the day of her last final, and if she’s all packed, she can leave as soon as she colors in the last scantron bubble. Then she and Bodhi will drive a solid six hours home, get there just in time to have a late dinner plate and watch “The Santa Clause” in her pajamas with their parents. 

That’s her fantasy, anyway. 

But right now, she still has nearly three more weeks of school; two of classes, and one of finals. 

She climbs up to her top bunk and flops disconsolately face-first into her bunched comforter. She moans loudly into the sheets, and completes her performance by yanking a pillow over her head. 

“Are you done?” her roommate, Leia, asks. 

“I just want to go home,” she pouts.

“Bruh, same. But you can’t waste your time just complaining in a corner. That just makes it worse.”

Jyn rolls over to face Leia, who is standing on her bed to rest her chin on Jyn’s mattress. “But I _want_ to,” she mopes. 

Leia rolls her eyes. “Being dramatic will not help you feel better.”

Jyn scrunches her nose. “_You’re_ the dramatic one.”

“If you’re looking for someone to pat you on the head and make you hot chocolate, call my brother. I’m just good for ass-kicking.”

Jyn sits up, pushes messed hair off her face. “Has anyone ever told you you’re a lot like your dad?”

“Yes. My mom. All the time. I tell her _she’s_ the one who married him.”

“Maybe that’s why she spends all her time in D.C.” 

Leia hops off her bed, rolling her eyes. “My parents are disgustingly in love, thanks.”

Jyn snorts before returning to her sulking. “I just want it to be Christmas. I want there to be decorations and lights and _fucking Christmas cheer!_”

Leia gives a pointed look to the miniature Christmas tree Jyn had crammed into the corner of their already crowded dorm. 

“Well, yes,” Jyn flounders. “There is that.” 

“My Christmas cheer died with the exams.”

“Leia, you’re a sophomore. You’re not supposed to be this jaded. That’s my job.” Jyn, a junior, was only living in the dorms with Leia because she loved the girl. Friends are important. 

“I was born jaded.”

“Remember how I said you’re the drama queen?” Jyn grins.

Leia hunches in her desk chair. “Shut up,” she grouches.

Jyn slides off her bed and pads over to her desk to sigh and shuffle through her syllabi. “I should write a paper.” She grabs her laptop and settles on the floor, which is naturally more comfortable than her university-sanctioned desk chair. She jams her earbuds in, mumbling, “I am going to listen to Carol of the Bells on repeat. As an act of defiance.” 

Leia hums. “I suppose now wouldn’t be the best time to tell you that Luke is planning a holiday party for the Saturday before finals?”

“_What?_ Of course you should tell me! Why didn’t you tell me sooner? Where is it? Who’s coming? Will there be wine?” She scrambles to Leia’s desk chair, shaking her shoulder. 

Leia laughs. “I didn’t know until yesterday, chill. He’s thinking a white elephant-food-and-drinks deal.”

“That sounds incredible.” Jyn claps her hands like a small child. “I’m bringing wine.” She nods decisively. 

“Ooh, can you do mulled wine? That’s a thing, right?”

“I’ve never tried it before, but there’s always a first time.”

“He’s thinking Christmas sweaters, maybe? So like, you and I are going to have to raid a thriftshop.” 

“Perfect.”

“Oh, and it’s supposed to be at Cassian’s.”

Oh. 

Oh, shit.

Of course, Cassian was going to _be_ there, he’s an integral part of their friend group, but Jyn wasn’t expecting—

There’s something about going to your crush’s _home_\--

Jyn can’t explain it. But the idea of showing up on Cassian’s doorstep, cheeks pinked from the cold and maybe snowflakes caught on her eyelashes and hair (yeah, right, like it would be perfectly snowing, but this is a fantasy, anyway, she can dream as she wishes), wearing that v-neck burgundy sweater that makes her boobs looks good and her sophisticated gold hoops that bring out her eyes, and bearing wine and a white elephant gift, tastefully wrapped in blue and silver—in the fantasy, he welcomes her in with a quiet, “hello, Jyn,” and she steps in, still smiling, and he takes her coat and just as she steps through the doorway she happens to glance up and there is mistletoe, artfully dangling, and he blushes a little before wrapping his arms around her and—

“Hey, Jyn, you good?” Leia is peering at her, from where she’d settled on the floor, legs in front of her like doll on a child’s bed.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just—tell Luke I’ll bring drinks, ok. Like, the full deal, not just wine.”

“Ok.” Leia studies her just a moment longer before neatly spinning on her chair to presumably text Luke.

Jyn stares at her feet a moment longer. This is fine. Everything’s fine. 

She thinks of Cassian again and her stomach twists, feeling flustered and hollow. 

Briefly, she imagines the party again. Maybe he’ll be wearing an emerald button-down with the sleeves rolled to the elbows. Maybe he’ll hold a glass of her wine and thank her softly for coming. Maybe he’ll wrap an arm protectively around her waist and pull her close to him before staring deep into her eyes and— 

Ok. She’s really got to get this under control.

Cassian, of all people, does not have a crush on her. Most of the time, Cassian doesn’t really seem to care for her in particular at all. 

*

Going thrifting with Leia is always an adventure. There are three second-hand stores in town, and two antique stores, and Leia insists they hit all of them. In theory, they are looking for sweaters, sufficiently ugly and Christmas-y. In actuality, they end up with more clothes than either of them need, both of their white elephant gifts, and a crockpot. 

Jyn finds salt and pepper shakers shaped like feet, ceramic toenails painted shocking red. “S” and “P” are on the top of each foot, and the big toes have three holes a piece. 

They’re hideous. (She loves them.)

She borrows a second crockpot from Base and Chirrut, who are married, and _actual adults_ in possession of things like crockpots, non-communal bathrooms, and sanity of mind. 

After the thrifting adventure, she makes Leia drive her to the grocery store, because the car she shares with Luke is bigger than Jyn’s ancient truck. People wonder why she drives a truck. Half of it is simply for the shock people get when she climbs out of the driver’s seat, and the other half is the fact that hand-me-down trucks from southern farmers like her father is the only way she’s getting a personal vehicle. 

The cashier eyes her ID suspiciously, but lets her buy the wine regardless. She sneaks the suspiciously clinking plastic bags into their room behind Leia carrying the more inane bags of groceries like cinnamon, cloves, oranges, milk, and cocoa powder. Technically, they aren’t a dry campus, but drinking in the dorms is frowned upon, especially in the presence of minors. Which Leia technically is. 

This does not stop them from breaking in Jyn’s new crockpot and brewing a practice batch of mulled wine and having a small celebration on their own.

“He’s jus’ so fuckin’ annoying,” Leia mumbles, two glasses in. (Leia is a lightweight.)

“Who, Han?”

“Who else would I be talking about?”

“A second ago you were talking about your dad.”

“Was I? Oh.” She stares in confusion at the dregs of her wine glass. “Dad’s annoying, but Mom’s got him handled. ‘Specially since she got that fucker—hic—that dude—what’s his name…_Palpatine_, got him fired.”

“Sure.” Jyn has heard this before, both sober and drunk. She takes a sip from her own glass, measured. She’s not even feeling a buzz. 

“Anyway, Luke said he’s going to be at the party.”

“Palpatine?”

“No, Han!”

Jyn hides a smile.

“That stupid scruffy bastard.” Leia lies back, flat on the ground, humming. “Hey, does the ceiling normally spin?”

“Ok, that’s enough.” Jyn takes away her empty wine glass. 

Leia pouts, but remains still on the ground. “How slutty you dressing for this party?”

“Excuse me?” Jyn seldom varies from her sweater-and-jeans outfit, let alone dress…_slutty._ Not that there’s anything wrong with being sexually confidant and outgoing, just, Jyn’s not. 

Leia lolls her head around. “’Sat Cassian’s _house_. Gonna make’a move?”

Jyn clenches the stem of her wine glass and carefully takes a swallow. “I am going to be wearing the atrocious sweater I bought today, and probably jeans.”

Leia wrinkles her nose and makes a disgusted noise. She yawns suddenly, and curls onto her side. “’M tired.”

“You are such a fucking lightweight.” 

She whines, but makes no other comment. 

Jyn gets her a cup of water and pats her head before climbing onto her bed. She isn’t even buzzed, so she sets about working on the paper due the soonest. 

She cannot keep her thoughts from Cassian. She’s liked—admired—crushed on him for so long that’s it’s dulled to a simple throb in her heart. It twists in her stomach, the knowledge he’ll never like her like that, and probably doesn’t really like her much at all, save tolerating her as a friend. 

Going to his home will be…painful, if only quietly. 

But dammit, she’s going to have a good time anyway. Even if that means she has to drink the entire batch of mulled wine herself. 

*

The day of the party, Jyn half hopes something will go wrong. She checks her phone every half hour, hoping her manager calls her in to work. She prays that her tires go flat. She longs for a blizzard, pleads for a call from a friend requesting her presence elsewhere, begs for a giant Christmas tree to collapse and block the road. 

No such luck. 

She arrives precisely on time for the six o’clock party, knocking on the door with a knuckle burdened by the canvas straps of the tote bag holding various ingredients. 

Baze answers the door, throws his arms open. “Jyn!” He wraps his arms around her, smashing her face into his broad, hard chest. 

She pulls back. “What _are_ you wearing?”

“An ugly sweater.” He spreads his hands, so to better display his handiwork. 

She’s seen ugly sweaters before, but the burnt orange, deep green, and bright scarlet glaring at her is something new. She thinks it’s supposed to be a Christmas tree, but it could also be a deformed reindeer. 

“Let her breathe,” Chirrut grins, from behind him, both hands resting on his cane. He too, is wearing a matching atrocity sweater. 

“Chirrut, I would hug you, but my hands are full.”

“I can hear you clinking,” he simply says, and steps to the side to let her pass. “We’ve set up the bar in the living room, and your crockpot is in there.”

Baze leads her down to the living room, to a low table by an outlet. There’s a folded green tablecloth, and a cooler of ice.

“Oh, thanks.” Jyn hauls her bags over, setting them down gingerly and sliding her backpack off. It has two bottles of wine in the back pocket, wrapped in towels to keep their temperature. 

She’s only been in the house once, dropping something off for Kay. It’s an old house, older than she’d expect to be rented out to twenty-somethings. The furniture is elegant, arranged to foster conversation. The burnished hardwood floors reflect the light from a flickering fire. Holy shit. There’s a _fire_ in a real, live _fireplace_, and wow, she can see why Luke wanted to host this here. With the stockings and the fire and the garland on the mantle—it looks straight off a Hallmark Christmas card. 

It’s not at all like the bachelor pad she’d imagined. But then, these boys aren’t your typical bachelors. 

Baze asks, “Can I help with anything?” 

Jyn shakes her head, still processing the opulence facing her. Baze disappears, rumbling something about the kitchen. 

She looks at the tree, hundred of fairy lights sparkling. It’s the only thing in this room that _doesn’t_ look like it came out of a cheesy Christmas movie her mom might watch. It’s a live tree, but shabby—probably all that the boys could afford. It’s sparse on one side, branches pushing into the room. Instead of color-coordinated orbs and opulent ribbon, there are personal ornaments. She observes it, taking in the little tokens of her friends. There’re some ornaments that look like family heirlooms—a glass nativity, a hand-painted orb. But there’re others that are deeply personal. A spaceship, probably from the era of Kes’s boyhood when he wanted to be an astronaut. A Star Trek Enterprise replica, which has to belong to Kay. And near the bottom, a ceramic soccer ball, with small cleats dangling off the bottom. The faded sharpie on one of the white hexagons reads _Cassian, ‘04_. From what she knows of Cassian’s childhood, it could be a last remnant from _before_, before his parents passed away and his time hopping foster homes. It’s a miracle this ornament survived. That it made it this far. 

She blinks at it for a moment, wondering the story behind it. Wondering how it made it here. There are ornaments on the tree that are likely to be Cassian’s from recent years, like the touristy ornament from Oxford, where he’d spent a summer studying. (On second thought, that could be Kay’s. But no, Kay is too refined to allow such garish displays of obvious tourism to signify his home country.) But this one—this one is special. She feels like she’s been let in on something deeply personal, particular to Cassian. 

Jyn takes a step back, zooming out to look at the tree as a whole. The crooked, homely look of it strikes her as a kindred spirit with herself. Out of place in this picture-perfect scene. 

At the same time, it fits perfectly, puts her right at ease. It makes her feel less like this should be a wine-cheese-cocktail-dress party and more like a boardgames-music-jeans party. 

She sets up the drinks table meticulously, finding a rhythm and peace in the preparation. She prepares the mulled wine, just like she’d practiced, slicing the orange in and spicing it. In the other crockpot, she pours the cider ingredients. The white wine she puts in the cooler, and she sets the six pack she’d bought specifically for Baze with it. 

Never let it be said she doesn’t care for her friends.

She has the hot chocolate ingredients, but she needs a pot and a stove top for that, which requires a kitchen. Meaning she’ll have to leave the safety of her little fortress behind the bar table, and venture deeper into the house. 

The doorbell rings, and she hears Chirrut greeting Leia. 

A moment later, they both appear in the living room. 

“May I take your coat, Jyn?” Chirrut asks, holding out a hand. 

“Of course.” She’d left it on, as though to make a quick get away, but now she surrenders the last bit of her ability to vanish without comment, handing it to him to disappear into what she assumes is the vast uncharted regions of the house. 

Leia, also coatless, holds her dish of butternut squash bake, which is a dessert disguised as a vegetable. Or perhaps the other way around. 

Luke appears around the corner, glowing like he’s a chestnut roasting over an open fire. “Leia! Jyn!” Luke side-hugs his sister as she sticks her tongue out at him. He is so clearly proud of what is happening, the party coming together because of his planning and text blasts and a google doc with rules for white elephant gifts (Your gift must be between $3 and $15. No live animals. No dead animals. No animals. No peanuts because of Kay’s allergy, and no lingerie. Leia suspects the last one is aimed at Han.) Beneath those rules were Cassian’s address, the time of the party, and a food sign-up sheet. Jyn had put her name by “drinks” and left it at that. 

Jyn waves a small hello. He glances at the table. 

“Do you have everything you need?” 

“I—uh—kitchen?” 

Luke gestures over his shoulder as the doorbell rings.

Through the dining room she ventures, past the large table with potholders awaiting hot dishes of holiday food. Luke had called this a “Christmas” party, but Shara is Jewish, and Chirrut is Buddhist, so maybe “Holiday” would have been a proper name. 

In the kitchen she finds the three men of the house clustered around a metal pan, inspecting the contents dubiously. 

“I think it’s done,” Kes Dameron is saying, bending closer.

“If we do it for much longer, it will be too dry,” Kay says, his back straight as he peer over the other two. He is supernaturally tall, clearing at least six four. 

“I think it’s fine,” Cassian pronounces. “Slide me the plate.” 

Kes pulls over a large ceramic platter, and Cassian takes serving tongs and works to lift a large roast from the pan to the platter. 

It smells heavenly.

It’s such a nice scene—these three boys so focused on something so careful, so domestic. She a little surprised by Kay, but it would honestly surprise her if Kay _didn’t_ go upstairs every night and plug himself into a charger. Kes can cook, but she knew that, because Shara won’t settle for less than a properly refined man. 

But Cassian? Well, this certainly isn’t helping Jyn’s little crush at all. 

Cassian turns around, now carrying the platter, and spots Jyn. 

“Oh, Jyn. Hello.” He says it shortly, and Jyn wants to dissolve into the floor. He’s surprised. It could be good surprised, she guesses. She was pretty quiet coming in here. Or it could be bad surprised, and that option is infinitely worse.

“Jyn!” Kes greets her with a friendly joy in her existence, and hurries over to give her a hug.

“Why do you have a pot?” asks Kay, because, Kay. 

“Hot chocolate. Can I use the stove?”

“Of course,” Cassian steps aside to make way, and carries his trophy into the dining room. 

Jyn sets about making the cocoa, measuring powder and pouring milk. Shara appears to kiss Kes and hug Jyn, asking about classes and finals and family. 

From the living room, she hears Han and Chewie and Bodhi arriving and being welcomed. Lando is the last to arrive, fashionably late, because everything Lando does is fashionable. He gets there right as she’s pouring cocoa into two thermoses, to be distributed accordingly. Who says you can’t drink hot chocolate from a wine glass?

*

She finds herself in the kitchen, alone, for no other reason than to catch a breath between the vivacious conversations and arguments of her more extroverted friends. 

It should not surprise her when Cassian walks in. It’s his kitchen after all, technically she’s the intruder. 

“Oh—hello—I can—” he motions back from where he came, but Jyn shakes her head.

“It’s fine. I just…needed a second of quiet.” 

Cassian nods in understanding before opening the fridge, emerging with a jar of black olives. He looks regretfully from them to Jyn. “I don’t know why Kay thinks we need these with our meal, but…he does, so…Is it a British thing?”

Jyn shrugs. “We’ve lived here forever, so...” 

He nods speculatively. “Look at us, just two regular American immigrants.” He sucks in his lower lip, turning the jar in his hands. 

She takes a second to look at him—the shag of his bangs where his hair has gotten long, the subtle lines of tension around his eyes. The stubble on his jaw and upper lip, the slim lines of his untucked black dress shirt over broad shoulders. For a flitting second, she regrets her choice of ugly sweater—a sweatshirt with a gel-inked snowman, like something a grandmother would wear. 

“Did you make the roast?” she asks, just for something to say.

“It was a team effort, but I…yes. Yes, I did.” 

“It looks delicious.” 

“Thanks, I—” he stops, still not looking up. “I’m impressed by your bar.” 

“Thanks. I wanted it to be really good, y’know?”

He looks up, grins. “It’s perfect.”

“You haven’t even tried anything yet!” 

“I don’t have to.” 

There’s a glimmer in his eye, in his crooked smile, that makes her think he’s joking. She wants to return it, somehow, but the words are lost to her and she is left simply staring. She is struck by how _small_ this kitchen is, how there’s very little space between her and him, and yet, he hasn’t backed away. “Are you…are you going home for break?” she finally manages, and then internally flinches at the horrid invasiveness and simultaneous shallowness of the question.

His eyes return to the olive jar, picking at the label. “To my—my foster parents, and then I’m coming back.” 

“Oh. I…I hope you have a good time.”

He shrugs. “I will.” 

How wrong would it be, to reach for him? To pull him close and let the tension bleed out of him?

“And you?” 

His question jars her. “I—Bodhi and I are going home.” It comes out almost apologetic.

He smiles, meets her eyes. “I hope you have the very best time. Your family—your family is a good family.”

She nods. “It really, really is.” There is more here, in this small space between them, but nothing is being said, really.

“I’m sorry I invaded your second of quiet,” he says, with a tone of finality.

“It’s fine, I’m not bothered, you’re my friend—” she cuts herself off, swallowing the rest of her nervous ramble, horrified at the word _friend._ He barely seems to tolerate her, her lack of interesting conversation and intrusion into his kitchen, and now she’s just. Oh God.

“Cassian, did you get the olives, or did the fridge swallow you?” Kay rounds the corner. “Oh. Did I interrupt?”

“No.” Cassian doesn’t look away from her. “Everything’s fine.” He nods at Jyn, a smile still hovering on his lips, before exiting. 

Jyn makes herself count to ten before following.

*

Their spread is fantastic, with plenty of good dishes. There’s the boy’s roast, complete with carrots and potatoes and gravy, and Leia’s dessert squash, and a cream cheese pepper jelly cracker dip from Shara, and homemade cookies from Chewie, and Bodhi brought dinner rolls (the frozen kind, but who has to know beside Jyn? no one), and potato chips from Han. (Because Han is somehow more of a disaster than Jyn.)

There’s plenty of other food, too, and all of good.

Lando brought a bottle of red and an apology, saying he “didn’t have time to make something,” and Jyn cynically guesses he means he didn’t care enough to try, but Lando is good people, so he’s excused. He greets her with a kiss to both cheeks. She accepts the bottle and adds it to the bar. 

It’s the top shelf, expensive kind. She pours herself a glass, and he is absolved. 

*

They eat, fancy food on paper plates seated in the living room. Her mulled wine and spiced cider are praised, and no one’s glasses run dry. They congregate in the living room, Chewie and Han taking up most of the couch, and Leia feigning unwillingness to be on Han’s other side. Lando chooses the wooden dining room chair, and Bodhi sprawls inelegantly on the floor. Jyn is quick to snag an armchair near her bar. Shara settles herself in the other, Kes leaning against her legs. Baze and Chirrut seem happy enough on the floor by the fire, and Luke smiles at them all before taking the other wooden dining room chair. Kay stalls in the doorway, unsure what to do with the lack of chairs, but Cassian nudges him forward to sit on the floor. 

They are warmed by food and wine, conversation merry and free. Someone has turned on Christmas music, a playlist of classic songs that make Jyn feel like she should be in a black and white Christmas film.

Soon, it is time for the white elephant gifting to begin. The gifts, which had been clustered to the side, are brought to the middle. The rules are simple: draw your number, that’s the order you choose a gift. At your turn, you can open or steal, and an item can be stolen three times before it is considered dead. If your item is stolen, you may then steal, or choose to open a new gift.

Luke wobbles to his feet—Jyn makes a note to cut him off _immediately_\--and gathers a bowl with pre-torn slips of paper. He sends it round, and Baze gets the first gift. 

White elephant gifts are always varied and always unexpected. Baze gets an extension cord, which is instantly stolen by Bodhi, and then Baze opens a very nice self-care kit from Shara, including lotion and hot chocolate packets. Jyn might steal that one, when her turn comes. She could use some self-pampering through these cold bitter days when dark suddenly falls at 4pm.

It’s Chirrut who opens her gift, feeling over the ceramic feet quizzically before turning to Baze. “Which of our friends looks as though they have a secret foot fetish?” This causes their friends to burst into appreciative laughter. 

There’s a frightening antique plastic snowman—it rather has the look of a killer clown. There’s a vintage 80’s band t-shirt; a set of tiny plastic hands; a box of Chewie’s homemade cookies (that one gets stolen by multiple people very quickly, until it finally, dies); a plastic penguin that, when wound up, stutters across the table and sends small chocolate candy out of its…well, out of its ass. (Jyn is delighted.) 

*

After the white elephant is over, Luke gets to his feet, steadier now than he was before. He holds his half-full (cider, Jyn made sure) glass aloft. “I propose a toast,” he says, glancing around. 

Han makes a jeering sort of sound, grinning widely. Leia rolls her eyes with a huff, turning away from him even though she is clearly bluffing. The rest of them settle down, the wrinkling of tissue paper and observations of gifts ceasing. The music has stopped, and they fall into a calm sort of quiet.

Luke glances round at all of them, smiling. “First, to alcohol, for making finals season and the cold more bearable.”

Lando raises his glass to him. “Hear hear,” he laughs, and sends a wink to Jyn. She raises her own glass in kind, though she is drinking hot chocolate, now. (She cut herself off early on. She does not bartend well when she is drunk.)

Luke reclaims their attention with a cleared throat. “To winter, for granting us holidays that give excuse for celebration.”

There are a few hums and nods in the room; from Kes and Shara cuddled together in the armchair by the fireplace, from Bodhi on the floor, leaning on the arm of the couch.

“And finally, to you, my friends, who have shared the gifts from your tables, and the gifts from your desires for enjoyment.” He sends a pointed look at the joke dildo that somehow had ended up with Lando. (Jyn’s not sure who brought that gift. She’s not sure she wants to know. Probably Chirrut, happily married and getting laid on the regular, poking fun at his single friends.) “Thank you for coming. Thank you for coming together. Thank you for the love you share together.” Luke blinks, swallows. “May your breaks be relaxing and peaceful and full of the love we have shared tonight.” 

A pause. Bodhi sniffles, softly. 

“Hear hear,” Cassian says. “To friends,” and he looks right at Jyn. His gaze is warm, he’s offering a smile, and she smiles in return.

They raise their glasses and drink. 

*

In the general rush of leaving, Jyn gives so many hugs she thinks her spine will crack. They’re a touchy friend group, and some of them won’t see each other again until after break. 

Chewie, twice her size in both directions, hugs her tightly to his broad chest and stomach. He’s not fat, exactly, just thick, thick like a Viking or a weight lifter, or someone who could rip apart a log with his bare hands. His beard tickles her head and face, and he laughs, and turns her round to show Leia and Han, making out on the couch. Jyn laughs, too, shaking her head. They’re insufferable, really. 

Chirrut and Baze take back their crockpot, despite her offers to clean it, and hug her, both, together.

Shara hugs her tightly, promising to text over break. Lando kisses her cheek and thanks her for bartending with a wink. 

And finally, there is a moment when neither she or Cassian are occupied by hugging or conversing with someone else, and they kind of look at each other for a moment before he says, “Have a great break, Jyn.”

“You too. Text me—if you want, I guess. You can…tell me more about olives? I guess?”

He laughs, and opens his arm for a side hug, and she slots against him, pressing her cheek to his shoulder. “Merry Christmas, Jyn.” 

“Thanks for hosting and everything. You have a nice house.”

He squeezes his arm a little tighter around her shoulders. “I’m really glad you came.”

“Yeah, I. Me too.” 

It’s nothing more or less than that. _Friends_, she thinks, and leaves into the cold December air.

**Author's Note:**

> Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, and good cheer to you all.


End file.
